Complications
by SynethesiaTastesGrey
Summary: Cassie and Pritkin can't get back from that trip to the 19th century at the start of CbS. I wonder why? Plot, what plot? Lots of smut. Thanks to Drekadair.
1. The Plot

**Disclaimer: This world and it's characters belong to Karen Chance, not me.**

**A/N: I know that Drekadair's story Losing It has basically the same plot. But I actually did have the idea before I read her story! Anyway, she has very kindly agreed to let me post this anyway, coz you just can't have enough Cassie/Pritkin goodness in this world!

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I caught Pritkin's hand at the last minute and shifted. Suddenly we were hurtling through time, effortlessly free falling. I felt a jerk in the pit of my stomach, and just as suddenly we stopped. We tumbled to onto cold cobbles with a thud and I lay there, winded.

Pritkin picked himself up and looked around in confusion. A thick mist swirled around us, so wet and thick it could nearly be called viscous. It obscured most of the light from the sky, making it impossible to tell what time of day it was.

"Where are we?" he panted.

If the heaviness of his breathing was anything to judge by, he hadn't enjoyed the landing anymore than I had. I sat up stiffly, rubbing my head. He didn't offer me a hand. I looked around. We appeared to be in some sort of alley way, but without ubiquitous dumpster and graffiti.

"Where are we?" he asked again, more forcefully.

I rested my head against my knees. "I don't know," I mumbled.

"Then when are we?" he demanded and I groaned aloud.

"Pritkin, I don't know, okay? I have no training, no help and no idea how this works. The power just flares, and I can't control it."

"Bullshit!" he hissed and I glared at him.

"Excuse me?" I clambered to my feet, my cheeks beginning to burn with fury.

"That's impossible," he sneered. "The power does not control the Pythia."

A brief fantasy of punching him in the face drifted through my head. I clenched my jaw and reluctantly pushed it away. Knowing him, if I even managed to land a blow, I'd break my knuckles.

"Oh, great, you're an expert," I ground out from between my teeth. "Perhaps you'd like to figure out why my power isn't working then." He looked away, a pulse throbbing in his neck.

A singsong chant interrupted us. "Murderer still on the loose! Police baffled!"

I looked around, but couldn't see the speaker in the surging damp around us.

"Whitechapel terrified!" he bawled. "Read all about it!"

Pritkin blasphemed inventively. "Stay right there," he ordered and vanished into the soupy fog.

I sat still, wondering why I had shifted to the wrong place. Perhaps I was over-tired? But I didn't feel that bad. I gnawed on my lip,trying to remember what little I had learned about my unwanted new powers. Agnes had warned me that if I didn't finish the Rites, I would have trouble controlling the power. But the only times I'd shifted before, I hadn't had problems like this. I winced at the implications. Judging by the accent of the shouter, we were in England. I really hoped not. Because when I reached for the power experimentally, I felt absolutely nothing. It wasn't even like running into a brick wall. It was like sticking my hand in an empty box and waving it around.

A shadow detached itself from the gloom and loomed over me. I yelped and then calmed when I recognized the ridiculous spiky silhouette.

"Pritkin. Did you find out anything?"

He crossed his arms and glared. "Yeah. We're in London. It's 11am on December 30th, _18-sodding-88!_

I gulped. "Shit."

"What the fuck is going on?" he demanded.

"I've told you! I. Don't. Know."

The glare he gave me damn near pinned me to the wall.

"Look, shifting takes it out of me," I explained. "I've just shifted across the Atlantic Ocean and more than 100 years and I haven't eaten much today. I'm tired. Maybe if I get some sleep or something, I'll be able to manage it." I desperately hoped that was the real reason, because if I needed to complete the Ritual, I was in trouble.

"Wonderful," Pritkin snarled. "And just where are you going to do that? If anyone sees you in that outfit, you're either going to get assaulted or arrested."

My head was beginning to throb. "You're the one who lived here! You work it out!"

He didn't respond and I sat in sulky silence for a few minutes. "You really can't shift?" he asked and I shot him a filthy look. "Fine, fine." He ran his hands through his hair. "1888," he said aloud, but I got the feeling he was talking to himself. "God, I can't even remember 1888. Uhhh, let's see, Whitechapel, Jack the Ripper, ummm . . . India!" He relaxed a little. "Alright, the present me's not here. That makes things easier."

"What were you doing in India?" I inquired and he glanced at me in surprise.

"I was hunting," he muttered uninformatively. My interest seemed to confuse him. He tugged at his hair again. "We need to get you proper clothes. Here." He took off his coat and handed it to me. I shrugged into it and felt my knees buckle.

"What the hell is this made of?" I gasped. "Lead?"

Pritkin ignored me in favour of groping in the pockets of his jeans. "Sod it," he muttered. "Check your pockets, see if you can find a folded up bag." I fumbled around in the coat, but after going through about a hundred (okay, six) pockets out of what seemed to be about a million and finding various sharp and dangerous objects, but no bag, I admitted defeat.

"A little help here," I snapped and he sighed impatiently. Crossing the space between us quickly, he flicked open the coat and searched around a breast pocket on the inside. His hand rubbed against my nipple through the fabric and my skin began to tingle. I jerked away as he pulled out a small, nylon package and he shot me a slightly bemused look. I blushed violently and hated myself for the weakness.

The nylon package turned out to be a light weight back pack that folded up into a tiny pocket when not in use. I watched with interest as he started stripping off the multitude of belts that held his weapons and dumping them into the bag, which seemed to be pretty sturdy for something so light. My breath caught as he swung it onto his shoulder, hiking up the sleeve of his t-shirt to reveal an impressively flexed bicep, lightly covered in dark-gold hair. I managed to look away before I could give into my urge to reach over and squeeze his arm, just to see if his muscles were as firm as they looked.

"Alright," he said thoughtfully, walking out onto the street. I followed hastily and realized that we hadn't got far: we were just across from the theatre. Then I almost ran into his back when he stopped abruptly.

"What's wrong?" I asked and for once, he didn't snap at me, he just frowned.

"I'm trying to decide where to go. I had a lot of stashes in this city, but I can't even remember where half of them are. And we need to go to one that I never used, so as to change history as little as possible, but at the same time, we need to be able to trust the person who holds it totally. Perhaps you understand my dilemma," he finished sarcastically.

"Um . . . stash?" I queried and he sighed.

"Emergency supplies. Weapons, money, clothes, fake papers. I leave them with people I can trust, or in safe deposit boxes, in most of the major cities in the world, in case I run into trouble. Of course they were a lot easier to put together in these times. Passport controls weren't as stringent as they are now. Well, not this now. Our now, which is sort of then - oh, God." He gave up, pinching the bridge of his nose.

I hesitated, uncertain. Should I leave him alone? He was so touchy. But then again, he looked pretty stressed out. Shifting was unsettling at the best of times, and getting trapped in the past on his first trip really couldn't be helping him. I opened my mouth to reassure him, when he abruptly pulled himself together.

"Right. I think I know where to go," he announced and headed off down the street. I wobbled after him, my shoes almost sending me falling.

"Hey, Pritkin! Wait up!" I tripped and fell against his heavily muscled shoulder. A man in a heavy overcoat and a top hat gave us a contemptuous look as he walked past. Pritkin shrugged me off and glared.

"What do you think you're doing?" he growled and my face began to redden again.

"I fell. You try walking on cobblestones in 3 inch heels!"

He rolled his eyes. "If they're that bad, take them off." I balanced awkwardly on one slender heel, trying to ignore his condescending tone and get the other shoe off. Of course, it decided to be stubborn and I over balanced, pitching face first towards the ground. The only thing that stopped me from breaking my nose was the strong arm that curled swiftly around my middle. Pritkin hauled me upright and I found myself standing inside the circle of his arm, so close to his face that I could feel his breath. My heart began to thump against my ribs.

"You are incompetent," he told me, but the corners of his eyes crinkled, in the closest I'd ever seen him come to a real smile, and the insult didn't sting so much. He held onto my arm while I pulled off the goddamn torture implements strapped to my feet. The cobblestones were covered in a slick mixture of mud and moisture and they were numbingly cold, but they were a lot easier on my arches. He kept a hold of my elbow as we walked down the street, apparently impervious to the bewildered and/or disgusted stares we were getting from passers-by. I was grateful, because I wasn't feeling particularly stable.

His solution didn't help for long. The hard stones bruised my feet, while the cold slowed my blood circulation right down. I was wincing with every step after less than a kilometre. I said nothing - Pritkin's opinion of me was low enough without having to listen to me whine. So it came as a surprise when he suddenly tugged me towards a small, black, horse-drawn coach waiting by the pavement. A bored-looking driver leaned against the side,reading a rumpled newspaper. He examined us as we approached and his eyebrows shot up.

" 'Ere, you two ain't getting on my cab looking like that!"

Pritkin gave him a terrifying smile. "You'll be rewarded. It's an emergency."

The cabby shook his head. "I ain't having no loose woman on my -" He shut up, probably because Pritkin had grabbed his shirt and yanked him forward.

"That _loose woman_ is my wife and she has been assaulted! I need to get her help, quickly!"

They locked eyes and the cabby quailed. I nearly felt sorry for the guy. Pritkin's normal behaviour was scary. When he was making a genuine effort to be intimidating, he was downright terrifying. Despite the fact that he was big, bordering on fat, the driver backed down pretty quickly. He even made a move to help me get on, but Pritkin slapped his hand away and lifted me easily into the cab, which didn't smell fantastic. I looked around the grubby interior as he gave the cabby an address and hopped in.

"I don't see we're going to pay for this, unless you're in the habit of carrying around 19th century English money," I commented and Pritkin shrugged.

"I'll deal with it," he stated calmly. "You should get some rest. It's going to take at least an hour to get there."

"Where, exactly, is there?" I asked.

"The house of a woman who owes me a lot. She owns a lodging house and hopefully she'll give you somewhere to sleep for a while." I nodded, feeling another little wisp of worry knot in my stomach. Please, please let that be all I need, I prayed inwardly.

The ride took well over an hour, but it only took a few minutes for me to decide that if - _when_ we got back, I was going to find the guy who invented suspension and give him a big, sloppy kiss. Every jolt, every bump reverberated through the cab and attempted to shake my spine to pieces. I had a sore back and a headache when we finally shuddered to a halt, but that wasn't the only reason I was happy to get out. Pritkin had sat in complete silence the whole time, staring out into the fog, his face dark and unreadable. The only time his eyes had met mine, they had been filled with a deep, chilling light. I spent the rest of the trip examining the floor, wondering what the hell he had been thinking about.

I let him help me out and took a few deep breaths, glad to be out of the cold, smelly cab, and away from the incredibly tense silence within. I took in our surroundings. The fog was lighter up here. I could actually see twenty feet in most directions. We were on a clean but drab street, lined with small, but incredibly neat houses. The cabby hopped down, landing pretty lightly for such a hefty guy and held out his hand expectantly.

"That'll be two an' six pence, guv," he announced and Pritkin sighed.

"Wait a minute," he ordered, took me by the elbow and led me to the nearest house. It had a discreet sign in the window, quietly informing the world that this was, "Mrs Angela Brynn's Lodging Establishment for respectable gentlemen. No blacks, dogs, or Irish. For rooms, inquire within." Pritkin rapped on the door and a dumpy, middle-aged woman in a grey dress opened the door before I could get over the the little list of prohibitions.

Today was clearly a day for shocks, because the minute Pritkin saw her, his face broke into an charming smile. "Angela!" he exclaimed, extending a hand. "It's been too long." My jaw hit the floor as she grabbed his hand, her eyes lighting up and making her look years younger.

"Why, Mr. Lester! What are you doing here?"

Pritkin's smile faltered for a split second, but he managed to keep it in place. "That is an extremely long story, but I'll tell you later, I promise. But, uh, first, if you wouldn't mind . . . " He waved in the direction of the cab, and the woman - Angela - nodded, vanished briefly and reappeared with a faded black purse. She waved us inside and headed out to the cabby. I turned to look at Pritkin, who was back to his usual grim expression.

"Um?"

He looked at me. "What?" he growled.

"Care to explain what's going on?"

Pritkin rolled his eyes. "What's to explain? Angela's going to give you a bed, you're going to go to sleep for a few hours and then we're gonna get back to Dante's before Michael J. Fox shows up."

A throbbing ache began to pulse through my head. First Pritkin was smiling, now he was making pop culture references. My brain was going to explode. "Actually, I was talking about the sudden personality flip, and the Mr. Lester thing and the freaking racist landlady!"

All I got was a shrug. "It's the 19th century. Everyone was racist. Besides, you're wearing what is essentially a lingerie set covered in red glitter. Who's got the moral high-ground here?"

Mrs. Angela Brynn chose that moment to walk back in and start simpering over Pritkin, who instantly turned back to insanely cheerful mode, yapping happily to the woman, leaving me sputtering in incoherent outrage. Even his accent had changed a little. But as I watched, I noticed the small furrow between his brows, the way his smile didn't reach his eyes and how it slipped fractionally every time she looked away. It dawned on me that this must have been what Pritkin was like back when his name was Lester and that it was taking a lot of effort to keep up the facade. I wondered why he had changed his name, and what the hell had happened over the last hundred years to turn him into the bad-tempered bundle of anger management issues that I knew.

After a while, he calmly introduced my as his wife, who was extremely tired after the traumatic experience of being mugged and needed a bed to rest for a few hours. She agreed without blinking. I'd say if he'd asked the woman to dance a jig, she would have done it. Hell, so would I. It turned out that when he wanted to be, Pritkin could radiate charm the same way he could give off a terrifying aura of menace. It was almost like a suggestion.

The dazzled Mrs Brynn eventually showed us to a small set of rooms. I looked around. There was tiny living room, with a fire place, an empty set of book shelves and a couch, and an even tinier bedroom. I waited until she was gone before shucking Pritkin's ridiculously heavy coat and crawling between the covers. Despite the fact that it was, like everything else in the house, tiny, it was pretty damn comfortable. But of course, I couldn't sleep.

It was all just too much for me. The geis, Mircea, getting stuck in the past, Pritkin going completely psycho, it was literally driving me out of my mind. I took a deep breath, wishing Billy was here so I'd have someone to whine at, at least. I tried to calm down by breathing deeply and focusing on a random, happy memory. Like the blissful six months I'd spent with Tomas, in that banal job, pretending to be normal. But that had ended pretty quickly once Agnes left me a picture of my own obituary and I had to cut and run. I sighed. _Agnes._ What if she was right about the dangers of not completing the Ritual? In that case, we were in deep shit. Because, thanks to the geis, there was only one guy I could complete it with and even if I was willing to utterly trash the timeline by sleeping with him, I had no idea where to find Mircea. I moaned. This wasn't working. I was working myself into a complete state of panic. I tossed and turned, biting my lip to hold back the sob that wanted to escape.

A soft tap on the door jerked me out of my funk. I looked up as it opened and met Pritkin's eyes.

"What's wrong?" he asked. I forced my laboured breathing to even out and stared at him.

"I . . . uh. It's just this whole thing. I'm getting so worked up, I can't even, I mean, I . . . " My throat closed up and closed my eyes in an effort to hide the tears stinging them. I heard the springs twang and felt the mattress shift as Pritkin sat on the edge of the bed. A cool, callused hand rested lightly on my forehead.

"I can help," he murmured and my eyes fluttered open, leaking a little.

"Huh?"

"There are many harmless spells that could put you to sleep. Just close your eyes and try to relax."

I obeyed, snuffling a little. The last thing I remembered was hearing him chant a soft incantation over me, before soft black clouds billowed around me and carried me away.

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**I have it on good authority that at that time, it was not unusual for signs like Mrs. Angela Brynn's to be displayed in boarding houses and similar. Weird, huh? **


	2. The Good Stuff

**A/N: That's the plot out of the way. Now for the good stuff!**

**New A/N! So, I'm back, and chapter 3 is proving troublesome. What with the summer being over and my teachers being sadists, I now have very little free time in which to write, however, I will do my level best to get it up eventually. (Once again pun intended. You can't write lemons without a certain degree of filthy-minded-ness, and if it wasn't for the gutter, my mind would be homeless!) Anyhoo, there were one or two things I wasn't happy about in this chapter so it's slightly improved now. Enjoy.  
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**Disclaimer: I don't own this, I'm not profiting from it.**

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When I woke up, the first thing I did was reach for my power. And I can't describe the sensation of monstrous dread that tore through me when I felt nothing. I fought free of the blankets, all but falling out of bed and staggered into the other room. Pritkin was sprawled on the couch, his arms folded behind his head and his eyes closed. They shot open the minute I entered the room and he sat up.

"Ready to go?" he asked quickly and I sighed.

"Pritkin, I couldn't even shift from there to in here."

He was totally silent for a moment. Then he groaned. "You can't be serious!"

I sat on the other end of the couch, with my feet tucked beneath me. "Unfortunately, I have never been more serious in my life."

We stared at each for a long moment and I had to look away. It was dark outside, and there wasn't so much as a candle in here, but I still flinched away from the intensity of that green gaze. I gathered my nerves. "Look, I think I know what the problem is."

"Yeah?" He didn't sound angry or upset. In fact, he sounded numb and that was _very _worrying.

"I, ah - I never actually completed the Ritual," I faltered and Pritkin's blank expression vanished.

"What do you mean you didn't . . . wait, you're a virgin?" I blushed so hard, I almost expected my cheeks to give off light.

"Well, uh, yeah."

"But you and Mircea - "

"No. Never finished."

"So you still have to - "

"Yeah."

"Oh, God."

"Yeah."

We avoided each other's eyes for a few seconds and then the rest burst out. "It wouldn't be such a problem, Pritkin, but the geis! I can't have sex with anyone but Mircea, but if I do, God only knows what I'll do to the timeline. And that's not even touching the problems we'd have finding him and convincing him to sleep with me! And even if none of that shit mattered, I have no idea what effect screwing him would have. I could end up bound to him for the rest of my life! This fucking spell!"

Pritkin buried his face in his hands. "Oh, shit," he said in a muffled voice.

I snorted. "Right again."

He looked at me. "That's not what I meant," he began, and there was the slightest of quivers in his voice. He struggled with himself for a few seconds, his mouth working soundlessly. Seeing him lost for words was a new experience for me.

"Just spit it out," I snapped and he rubbed his chin.

"I can lift the geis," he blurted and I started.

"What?" I screeched."You said there was no way out!"

He held up his hands defensively. "This isn't a way out. I can only lift it for brief periods of time. But, uh, long enough to finish Ritual."

I froze. "Why didn't you say this before?" I snarled.

"Because we didn't need to have sex before!"

We both winced and stared into space. "So what's the catch?" I asked eventually.

"The catch?"

"It can't be this simple! My luck isn't this good. There has to be side effects, or problems, or some vital missing ingredient to this spell!"

His head started shaking before I'd finished speaking. "It's not a spell," he told me. "I . . . have abilities. Abilities other mages don't have."

I raised an eyebrow, but he didn't respond for a long second.

"I'm a half-blood," he admitted finally. "My father was a demon and human magic doesn't affect demons in the same way." It was my turn to gawp like a fool.

"You're kidding."

"I wish I was," he answered bitterly.

"You can really lift the geis?"

"Yes." He hesitated. "But there is a problem." I sighed. Of course there was. "I can't just manipulate my powers the way a full demon would. Uh, you see, when I lose control, I, er, I might start to feed."

I bit my lip on the instinctive expletive. "Feed?" I hissed.

"Uh, yeah." He sounded embarrassed.

"So basically, I can either bang Mircea and ruin the timeline, not to mention my own life, or you, and get the life sucked out of me."

Pritkin flinched. "That isn't certain. I'm not saying it wouldn't be dangerous, but I can hold it back to a certain extent. But Mircea, on the other hand . . . the consequences would almost definitely be disastrous."

I massaged my temples. "Are you sure you can lift the geis?" I reiterated and Pritkin suddenly scooted over on the couch until he was right next to me.

"Let me show you," he breathed and cupped my face in his hands. I went rigid, not knowing how to react. His fingers were roughened by years of shooting and punching things, but startlingly gentle. Then his lips brushed mine and my brain shut down. I stayed in his arms, stiff as a statue, while his tongue, hot and moist, ran briefly over my lower lip. He let me go and backed off. I stared, still 100% confused. My heart was pounding like drum, but my headache was gone. Better still, there had been no warning sparks from the geis.

He moved away again. "Just think about it, 'kay?" he croaked and slumped back against the thin cushions.

I closed my eyes, trying to clear my head. My pulse was gradually beginning to slow down but the overwhelming feelings of confusion and helplessness that had almost bludgeoned me to the floor earlier were oozing back. The last twenty four hours had just been shock after shock to my system and this last one was threatening to give me an aneurysm. A half-demon? What the fuck? Weirdness seemed to latch onto me like kitschy magnets to a fridge. I pulled my legs into my chest, hugged my shins and rested my head on my knees, trying to rationally lay out my problems.

Okay. Current catastrophe. Me and Pritkin stuck in the past doing untold damage to the fabric of history. Made worse by the geis. The only way out? Sleep with a guy I hardly knew, who'd been trying to kill me up until recently. Okay, so then I could shift home, no harm done, or as little harm as possible done, to the timeline, at least. But I didn't want to be Pythia! I dug my fingers into my scalp. This was just so unfair. I pouted angrily. But I was out of options.

I looked up. "This feeding thing." He became fascinated by a stain on the ceiling. "How much of a problem is it?" He mumbled something incoherent and continued to stare upward.

"Pritkin, I need to know!"

"It should be alright. When strong feelings are not present, it's a lot easier to control." Oh. In other words, I don't really care about you, so it's a lot easier to remain objective.

"Thanks a bunch," I sulked, and Pritkin grimaced.

"That came out wrong," he sighed. "I should be able to stop the drain, but I don't know for sure. Perhaps it is too dangerous. We should wait a little longer, see if your power comes back, or if we have any other options - "

"Getting cold feet at the thought of actually screwing me?" I sniped and his jaw twitched.

"No." It was a flat statement of fact, and not all that encouraging. I closed my eyes again. Other options, he said. But there were no options! Myra was going after Mircea, the geis was obviously going to create problems, it already was, in fact and I had to consider the effect my actions would have on other peoples' futures and pasts. The long and the short of it was that my reluctance was putting an unguessable number of people in jeopardy.

"Miss Palmer?" I peeked out from beneath my eyelids to see Pritkin watching me. Was it just me or did he looked concerned? Wonders will never cease. I closed some of the space between us.

"We don't have a choice. We have to do this," I rasped. He nodded and reached across, very slowly and rested his hand on my arm. He slid it gently up and over my shoulder to cup my neck, rough calluses rubbing against my skin. I shook, with a mixture of nerves and the first fleeting hint of desire, as he hesitantly leaned across and gave me the softest of kisses.

He nibbled lightly on my trembling lips and I opened them instinctively, squeaking in surprise as his tongue slid into my mouth and twined wetly around mine, beginning a smooth, thrusting rhythm that made me melt into him. I whimpered and he seemed to like that because he pulled me closer, wrapping strong arms around me as I began to respond to him.

I touched him, tentatively at first, caressing his face, learning the contours and then wrapping myself around him as he devoured my mouth, his kiss growing hungrier and hungrier, until we were dueling with tongues and teeth and lips, gripping each other frantically. Pritkin had drawn me practically into his lap, and now I wriggled around into a kneeling position, straddling his thighs. He broke free with a moan.

"Miss Palmer – "

I seized twin handfuls of his hair and forced him to look into my eyes. "You're about to deflower me," I snarled. "The very least you could do is use my bloody name!" He stared at me in shock.

"Um, Cassie, then."

I waited, and he cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Are you completely sure you want to do this? It's a big risk – _mmmmmm!_"

He broke off with a moan as I kissed him furiously, biting his lip, pushing my tongue in and out of his mouth, claiming him. He didn't waste any more time. He slipped one arm around my back, and stood, supporting my rear with the other. I hooked my legs around his waist as he carried me into the other room and laid me carefully down on the bed.

I arched up to kiss him again but he grabbed my hips and flipped me over, making me cry out in surprise. He knelt behind me and ground his arousal against my ass as he swiftly unzipped the stupid corset, pushing it off my body. Warm lips pressed to the nape of my neck, then bit down, eliciting a moan of ecstasy from me. He sighed against my skin and began to explore my body, trailing a line of scorching kisses all the way down my spine.

My back arched and my legs shifted apart without any orders from me. I don't really know what I had expected: I hadn't really thought about sex with Pritkin before now, but God, this was incredible. I never would have believed that there could be this much heat, this much passion between us.

His hands had dipped below me and now they massaged my stomach, moving slowly upwards until his fingers brushed the undersides of my breasts. My nipples began to ache and I was suddenly desperate to feel his mouth on them. I strained my neck, trying to reach his mouth with mine, but of course, Pritkin would never make life easy for me. He nuzzled my neck and my shoulders as though trying to drive me crazy (and knowing him he probably was) then drew my earlobe into his mouth, scraping it with his teeth.

Capable fingers _finally_ reached my nipples, tweaking, rubbing and teasing. My body was shuddering and tingling all over, and incoherent little pleas fought free despite all orders to the contrary. He pulled away and I mewled in protest, only to have him push me over gently so I was facing him again. I gasped in relief and grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him up for a kiss that burned its way from my lips to the dampness between my legs. He worked his way down my neck, pausing to lap at the hollow above my breast bone, before sliding down to the tender, aching skin below. Soft, wet heat enfolded my nipple, then sucked and I was in _heaven_. I groaned and threaded my fingers through his hair, which was thick and surprisingly silky. I held his head against my breast, breathing in sharp, desperate pants, while liquid pleasure exploded from the very core of my body.

A cold wind brew through the room, twining itself easily around me, like a crackle of static electricity, and he pulled away from me, breathing hard.

"Pritkin?

He closed his eyes, and his fingers tightened on my hips as he took deep steady, breaths. The strange feeling of a cold current running over my flesh fluctuated wildly, then vanished altogether and Pritkin opened his eyes again. His emerald gaze held mine fast for a long moment and then suddenly he lowered his mouth to my skin again.

Hot lips flitted briefly to my other breast, and then moved on, kissing the over sensitized skin of my stomach and then pausing on his journey downward to plunge his tongue into my navel. A long groan ripped from my throat and then I felt his hands on my thighs, nudging them apart.

I froze as I became suddenly aware of just how intimately exposed I was to a man that I didn't even known existed less than a fortnight ago. He looked up at me and his eyes flared a deep, bright green. He caught hold of the waistband of my shorts and waited. I stared back at him, and was struck by the calm on his face. For the first time since I'd met him, his expression was peaceful, almost tender. I hesitated, trying to think, but I was throbbing with need and I wanted this. I nodded and they were stripped from me with swift competence.

The bulky outline of his shoulders was silhouetted against the dim light from the window, and it suddenly struck me as unfair that he was fully dressed, while I was down to my panties. I started to sit up to rectify that when he hooked his fingers in the band of cotton stretched over my hips and very, very slowly, tugged it down. He took his time, easing my underwear down my thighs, then to my ankles before casually tossing them over his shoulder.

"You're getting those in the morning," I panted, then moaned as he moved, like quicksilver, to nestle between my legs.

He cupped my buttocks in his hands, lifting my sex to his mouth. I was all but vibrating with anticipation when he leaned in – _at last! – _to lick the whole of me in one long, slick caress. He repeated the motion, and I dissolved.

I lost track of time as that talented tongue explored me languidly. Teeth scraped my clit and then he sucked hard. My hips began to thrust in time with the rhythm he set and I clawed helplessly at the blankets, desperate for release. Just when I was sure I couldn't take it anymore, he slipped his tongue inside me, found that perfect spot and stroked it, over and over. When I finally came, my whole body seemed to vibrate to one perfect note, leaving me sobbing for breath and writhing in his arms, while fireworks detonated behind my eyelids.

When the world stopped spinning around me, I found myself staring up into Pritkin's eyes and we were still for the longest moment. Then I lunged at him, kissing him hard and jerking frantically at his t-shirt.

He lifted his arms obligingly, and the t-shirt joined my panties somewhere over his shoulder. I nuzzled my way down his neck, to his chest, which turned out to be a lot more impressive than I'd expected, rubbing my nose in the thick soft curls I found there. A long moan dragged from his throat when I found his nipple and began teasing it with my tongue. I reached the button on his pants and fumbled with it, until he pushed my hands away and opened it himself.

The jeans joined the growing pile on the floor and I found myself staring at his arousal. God, he just had to big didn't he. This was going to hurt. I met his eyes again and he actually smiled at me.

"Don't worry," he murmured. "I'll be gentle, I promise."

I nodded apprehensively and he leaned in to kiss me again. I let him push me down onto my back and felt his flesh settle between my thighs. He hovered over me, bracing his arms on either side of my head and slowly, carefully slid inside me. I gasped at the unfamiliar feeling and then moaned when he met resistance.

"Try to relax," he whispered. "And it'll hurt less."

I just clung to him, and he moved forward again. I winced at the sudden stab of pain. It hurt worse then I'd expected. He withdrew and examined my face carefully.

"Cassie, we can stop now."

"What?" I blurted.

He glanced away awkwardly, but couldn't seem to find a safe place for his eyes. "Well, technically the Rites have been completed. You're not a virgin anymore. If you want to stop, well . . . now would be a good time to say it."

I stared up at him in disbelief and then I actually laughed. "Pritkin – you're _sweet._"

I swear to God, he flushed. Who'da thought it? John Pritkin wasn't such a bad guy after all. He started to move away and I shook my head. "No. Finish this."

"Cassie –"

I thrust my hips up to his and it hurt a lot less this time. And the expression on his face was worth it. He gasped and bit his lip as I clenched my muscles around him, grinding myself against him.

Within seconds, he began to move with me, deep, slow thrusts that felt so, so good. We both gasped and moaned as we rocked together, and I felt the heat building inside me again. He was practically whimpering with pleasure and I smiled in satisfaction. I wanted to watch him come. I wanted to see his face, with all walls and inhibitions gone, like he'd seen mine.

As though he was reading my mind, his hand slid between us and found my clit. He began to stroke it in a smooth rhythm that contrasted his movements inside me and the dual sensation was too much for me, the rhythm impossible to follow. I bucked wildly underneath him, screaming and screaming into his mouth. I felt rather than saw him reach his own orgasm. His thrusts became irregular, and he groaned hoarsely, finishing inside me with one last, deep stroke.

I floated somewhere 1000 miles overhead for what seemed like hours. I vaguely felt him pull out of me, and cover me with the blankets as I drifted back down to earth. He got up and began groping around on the floor. I recovered enough to sit up and admire the view. He found his clothes and turned to leave with them bundled under his arm.

"Hey," I called. "Where are you going?"

He had his back to me, but the tight set of his muscles told me he was uncomfortable.

"I . . . uh, I'll sleep on the couch," he muttered, stepping to the other room.

"Why?" The question slipped out before I could stop it.

Pritkin turned back to face me. "Do you_ want_ me to stay?"

My cheeks began to burn.

"No, it's okay," I whispered and rolled over quickly. I heard him sigh and then there was silence. When I finally looked around, he was gone.

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**More to come. Pun intended. **


	3. The Better Stuff

**Okay, I know, I've been a very bad writer. I have done absolutely nothing with this for the past 2-3 months and my only excuse is school, also known as laziness. But here it is, The Long Expected Update (cookies for anyone who gets that reference) complete with smut. Lots and lots. And lots.**

**Disclaimer: This is Karen Chance's universe and characters. Not mine. **

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A hand was shaking my shoulder, nudging me out of my dreams. I stirred and blinked at the wavering light of a candle. The flickering flame came from an old fashioned copper candle holder, sitting in the hand of the dark figure leaning over me. It took me a minute to wake up enough to identify it.

"Pritkin," I slurred. "Wha's goin' on?"

He put the candle on the sturdy little bedside locker and rubbed his neck nervously. "We have a problem."

I stared. "What now?" I asked, too tired and too jaded to muster any enthusiasm.

"You're ovulating."

I half wished I had a drink, just so I could spray it across the room. "WHAT?" I screamed and he winced.

"Shhh," he pleaded. "You're going to wake the whole house."

"What do you mean _ovulating? _How can you even tell?"

"Well, your temperature is up and I, um. I can smell it."

I shuddered. "You what? How do you even know what that - " I stopped, too creeped out to continue. Pritkin went pink in the candlelight.

"My senses are more acute than a human's," he muttered. "You'd be amazed how much unwanted information you pick up with a sharp nose."

I thought about that and then decided I really didn't want to.

"Okay, okay," I sputtered. "So what does that mean?"

Pritkin's face went from pink to scarlet. "Well, usually this wouldn't be a problem, seeing as half-bloods of any species are generally much less fertile than the norm, and demons, as a rule, are fairly infertile, presumably because of their extreme longevity, but seeing as you've reached, uh, _that_ point in your- "

"Pritkin!" I barked and he shut up. "Stop babbling. What's the problem?"

He fidgeted and looked down. "Well, basically, I need to cast a contraceptive spell on you."

"That's it?" I squawked. "Couldn't you have just done it without waking me? Or better yet, waited until morning?"

"Well, contraceptive spells are usually potions which are administered orally, but I don't carry them 'round with me. There are a limited number of straight incantations that are regularly effective."

My headache was back with a vengeance. "I still don't see why I'm awake," I groaned.

"Um, well, the best one to use has to be cast within an hour of sex. And unfortunately, we missed that one about three hours ago."

"Pritkin, if you don't just get to the point, I'm actually going to strangle you. Slowly."

He almost smiled, and for a second, with his crazy hair mussed, his cheeks red and the lines around his eyes crinkled, he looked cute, there was no other word for it. Then the moment vanished, and I remembered I hated him. Sort of.

"So, er, that leaves us with one other choice," he continued uncomfortably ."That I really had to wake you up for, because, I have to - well, it's a bit . . . invasive."

I raised my eyebrows. "Meaning?"

"This spell is a spermicide," he explained.

"Soooo . . . ?"

"Hand gestures are quite important for most incantations and this is a tricky one. Basically, you trace runes, usually in the air."

He left it hanging and I prompted him, still not quite getting it.

"But?"

"For this incantation, for greater effectiveness, I, ah, well, I have to make the gestures as close possible to the, uh, the sperm."

I opened my mouth to yell at him again, then got it and choked on a lung full of air, my brain freezing. After an awkward few moments of him staring at the pealing paint on the wall and me gulping like a fish out of water, I cleared my throat.

"Um, is it going to hurt?" The question slipped out of my mouth without consulting my brain and I winced in embarrassment.

He shook his head fractionally and we stayed there, frozen in complete mortification for a long moment. Then, going so red I was giving off heat, I sat up and slowly drew back the covers, inch by inch, until I was totally revealed to him. But despite every effort of will my legs remained firmly clamped together.

Pritkin sank to his knees in front of me and rested his hands lightly on my thighs, the warm candle light casting liquid reflections in his eyes, making them softer and smoothing away the angry lines that tugged his lips downward. I hesitated and then parted my legs.

Callused fingers brushed their way along sensitive skin, finding the heat at the join of my thighs and carefully, delicately coaxing it open. I swallowed a groan as one hard digit slid inside me, stroking my skin a little too expertly. It was swiftly joined by a second, making odd little movements as Pritkin began a husky, almost musical chant. It didn't sound like any spell I'd ever heard before. The sounds were more guttural and the intonation more lyrical and flowing. It sounded almost like some kind of Gaelic language, hoarse and lilting. The rhythm of it perfectly matching the strange movements of his finger tips within me.

I gritted my teeth, and squeezed my eyes shut, thinking that maybe if I couldn't see him, crooning gently to me as his hands teased me so perfectly, I wouldn't feel it either. This stellar idea worked about as well as you'd imagine and my breath began to hiss through my painfully clenched teeth as my treacherous brain focused on nothing but the symphony of sensation bombarding me. My joints turned fluid, making me sway and Pritkin slipped his arm around me, supporting my back and holding me even closer. The chant rose and fell, and my hips began to thrust up helplessly.

"Pritkin!" I gasped out and he chanted faster. Then the musical ululation cut off abruptly and the sweet caressing inside me was jerked away. I cried out, almost collapsing and Pritkin swore.

"It's okay!" he blurted. "It's over, hey, it's okay, it's over!"

He pulled me upright and I stared up at him feverishly. My body trembled, slick with sweat and frantic for release. How could he do that to me? I was so completely turned on that it was actually beginning to hurt and he was telling me it was _over?_

"Like hell it is!" I growled, wrapped my hand around the back of his neck and crushed his mouth roughly with mine. He kissed me back for a fraction of a second, then pushed me away, sputtering.

"What the fuck?" he gasped, staring at me with widened eyes. His arm was still wrapped around my waist and it suddenly seemed to be burning my skin. I wriggled away from him frantically, hot tears of humiliation burning my eyes, but he wouldn't let me go.

"You know," I hissed, "For a minute there, I thought you were different, when you stopped when we were - when we were - " My throat closed up and I fought to keep from babbling hysterically. "Just let me go!"

His arm just tightened around me and though I refused to look at him, my skin prickled as his eyes brushed over it. I tried one final heave but he was just too strong. Without even thinking about it, I shifted.

I heard his cry of surprise as I landed on the other side of the room. The cold night air assaulted my naked flesh and I shivered violently. At least I could shift again, I thought miserably. I heard Pritkin get up and come over behind me but I couldn't look at him. I was shaking with cold and the beginnings of hysteria, but my sex still throbbed insistently. My body still wanted and it wasn't being shy about it.

There was a soft rustle of fabric and something warm descended around my shoulders. I clutched at it instinctively and realized Pritkin had wrapped me in the blanket from the bed. His hands smoothed gently down my upper arms and I could feel the heat even through the thick comforter.

"We met less than two weeks ago," he reminded me softly. "Just last week, we tried to kill each other! I assumed you wouldn't want me to stay. I thought you wouldn't want me anywhere near you." It was scary, how he read my mind, put his finger right on the problem I hadn't even admitted to myself. It had stung when he left so abruptly the evening before, like I was some sort of cheap hooker.

I turned shakily to face him. The weak light of the candle didn't illuminate much but it showed enough. I reached out and cupped his cheek hesitantly. His breath caught and without the thick blanket between us, I could suddenly feel the evidence that he hadn't been as unaffected as I thought. I stretched up to kiss him lightly and this time he didn't pull away. Our lips pressed together and stuck, tingles of electricity pulsing from the point of contact. I could feel the stiff arch of his arousal against my stomach and a surge of desire rocked through me, making me weak at the knees.

I pulled away, the forgotten blanket pooling at my feet, my heart pounding in my throat.

"Take off your shirt," I ordered hoarsely and the speed with which he obeyed sent a thrill of excitement through me. I stalked forward slowly, backing him up against the wall. He started when he bumped against it, then swallowed as he met my eyes. I gave him an excited smile, then let my eyes trail lower. My smile vanished and I began to pant as I focused on the perfect muscles on his chest and arms. They rippled in time with his harsh breathing, like steel cords beneath his skin, all dusted finely with dark gold hair that trailed down his abs to vanish into his jeans. I licked my lips unconsciously and Pritkin inhaled sharply.

"Cassie," he rasped and I enjoyed the urgency in his voice. I leaned in and licked his earlobe, bracing my hands on his pecs, then digging my nails in a little because I just couldn't resist. He groaned and shifted his hips so his erection pressed into me and I nuzzled his shoulder.

"Patience is a virtue," I whispered in his ear, exploring the soft hollow behind his collar bone. I discovered an interesting series of little ridges that turned out to be raised white scars gouged into his back. I wondered briefly what could have hurt him like that when every other mark seemed to just fade away and then got distracted by the rigid muscles of his chest. I outlined them gently with my tongue, then turned my attention to his nipples, sucking and teasing. I trailed my fingers lower, then hooked them into the waistband of his jeans, savouring the searing hot skin beneath. His breath came faster and faster and then, without warning, he flipped us around and kissed me hungrily.

I gasped at the cold of the wall behind me, such a shocking contrast to the heat of his body in front of me. I kissed him back and moaned into his mouth as his hands began to wander, one supporting my hips, the other stroking my breasts, then my stomach, before plunging between my legs. I gasped as he began to stroke my clit, feeling sparks race over my skin.

He stopped kissing me and rested his forehead against my mine, his face so close that I could feel the brush of his lashes against my eyelids. He gasped my name, almost pleadingly and I kissed the tip of his nose.

"Don't hold back," I whispered and he didn't.

He paused briefly to flick open his pants, then thrust into me and I felt it all the way up my spine. I shuddered against him as he slowly pulled out, before groaning and slamming into me again. He found a rhythm swiftly and my entire body turned to jelly, the reverberations of those deep, powerful strokes turning my bones to liquid. I folded weakly around him and just clung as he pounded into me, stars bursting in my vision. I shook as he hit a particularly sweet spot, then bit down hard on the thick muscle of his shoulder. Pritkin yelled in what must have been pleasure because he increased the pace until I thought I was melting, grasping my hips and moving me forcefully against each thrust. I knew I only had a few seconds before I came, but suddenly that was far too little. I wanted this to go forever. I wrapped my legs tighter around him and shifted.

We landed on the bed with me on top, straddling him. I panted dizzily, the sudden change of position playing havoc with my balance and grinned down at Pritkin, who seemed to be having the same problem. His rhythm had faltered totally and he gaped up at me, his eyes wide and slightly frazzled. My grin widened as my earlier observation was confirmed. Pritkin looked cute when he got flustered.

I leaned forward to kiss him, sucking lightly on his tongue before lifting my hips and impaling myself on him. He bucked under me as I set the pace, moving as slowly as I could. His fingers gripped my ass and the heat began to build deep inside me again, building to an unbearable point as I swallowed him to the hilt again and again. I lost track of time, forgetting about the cold and the tiny room and the ridiculous situation we were in. My muscles spasmed in pleasure and I arched my back and buried my fingers in my hair. I felt a now familiar burst of coldness over my skin as Pritkin lost control, increasing and increasing until it was like heat, approached from the other direction. It made my eyes roll into my head and my body thrash wildly but this time, it didn't stop.

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**So, I know a cliffhanger after all this is probably a little cruel, but hey, it means there'll be another chapter, something I never intended. And I know I promised someone (I forget who) that I'd write this from Pritkin's POV, but don't worry. That's coming (hehehe, never gets old) up next. **


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